Sango returned to our table many times that night, each time with a plate crowded with some new sugary treat for Naraku to inhale. He could hardly muffle new orders between the thick clots of whipped cream, the round, glistening cherries, thick crusts and oozing globs of cream fillings that filled every cavern of his mouth so completely I feared his throat would clog and my 'semi-date' might fall over and die on the dirty diner floor with only that weird girl from "The Underworld" as a witness.
And Sango, too. She'd start screaming and chewing her chipping pink nails. Obsessively, I imagined each individual shimmering fleck falling, falling off of her imperfect fingers.
I was letting my imagination run wild. I took a deep breath, another sip of my Coke, and leaned across the table. "What's your secret?" I asked, watching him pause, something fluffy and drizzled with chocolate coating his fingertips that he then carefully licked clean before giving me his attention.
He smirked. "Which one?"
"You're so thin. But. . ." I made a vague gesture toward the cluttered table.
"I know," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "I inhale this shit like I weigh 600 hundred pounds. I need the sugar."
"You're practically snorting it." I took another swallow of Coke.
His grin only widened as he leaned closer to me, a fall of wispy raven hair hiding both of our faces from Sango's prying eyes, his lips barely brushing my cheek as he whispered, "I snort a lot of things, Kikyou."
Just then said waitress arrived with an unbelievably long bill that she waved in front of his face, a war flag raging battle with his wallet, the scrap of paper she was pretty sure would bump up her paycheck this week. "Here's the check, Naraku." She grinned as she delicately laid it on the table, the corners of it peeking out from underneath a piece of half-eaten cherry pie.
He sighed and bit his lower lip almost adorably ( I say almost because it is extremely difficult for people such as Naraku to seem even slightly disarming ) as he fumbled in his pocket for a while, pulling out a wad of cash. "This should cover it, Sango dear."
She grabbed the roll of money, shoving it in her pocket with no intention of ever putting it in the cash register. "Oh my god," she said, after having put the money away, "You and your friend need to come by the house some time. I'm living with Miroku now-- he's so loaded. We can all shoot up together."
She turned to smile at me, "And you can give me that manicure you were talking about." Brown eyes wandered over my pale forearms. She grabbed me by the wrist, examining them. I glanced at Naraku questioningly, but he was watching Sango.
"You have amazing veins." She said finally, dropping my arm back down to the table.
"We'll definitely get together sometime," Naraku said abruptly, standing. I did the same. "I've got your number." She nodded.
I followed him in silence as we left the diner, Sango's figure blurred behind the foggy window glass advertising some new deep-fried dish or another, growing more and more distant until she was nothing. The streets were filled with cars and multi-colored lights; and it began to dawn on me that I didn't know where the hell I was, and we didn't have a ride.
"Shit." I cursed out loud. Naraku put his arm around me.
I didn't even have enough energy to shrug it off. On the way there, I'd been on fire. It was like I was high on this dark, beautiful nightclub stranger, and now I was coming down.
Oh my god, I thought to myself with an audible moan, he's going to take me back to his apartment and strangle me with my underwear.
"You wanna come back to my place?" He asked confidently, like he knew what my answer would be before I answered. This man had a fantastic ego.
And I had horrible judgment, and enough leftover jealousy to influence that judgment.
"Yeah, sure." I said, leaning into him. I put the whole image of me lying dead on his mattress out of my head, making room for more jealous thinking.
InuYasha and Kagome were supposed to be coming over for dinner that night.
They were in for a big surprise.